The Third Groomsman
by Stucky
Summary: Steve Rogers is a simple (gay) fella taking in life as it comes, however when he meets James Barnes at Nat and Clint's wedding reception in a rather interesting and somewhat nontraditional way, things take a turn for the steamy. Thanks to fujoshizzle. for this beautiful photo manip!


**Hey guys! So yeah Nightmare is still in the works (as is another one shot) but here's a modern AU Stucky oneshot to hold you guys over until the next Nightmare chapter, or for anyone else who happened to stumble upon this.**

 **This fic is also on my ao3 account, which is under the same name as this one (stucky).**

 **I hope you enjoy this fic!**

 **(I do not own these characters, but if I did, Steve would be bi, however in this fic he was born gay).**

* * *

"Come on, go out with Lisa. She's really nice." Natasha leans against the doorway of Steve's cubicle, a red coffee mug in one hand, her hip under the other hand. She did this every Thursday morning, and always checked up on him again every Monday. The conversation was always the same.

"No thank you, Natasha," Steve replies, not looking up from the papers he's sifting through.

Natasha taps a manicured finger on her hip, "Please? You really need to get out more. All you do is work."

"Work is what I need," He says flatly.

She sighs, sipping her coffee. She grimaces, and makes a small noise in disgust; Clint never remembered to add sugar.

"He forgot to add the sugar again, didn't he?" Steve asks, finally looking up at his co-worker.

She smiles, "He did."

He smiles back, opening a small drawer in his desk. He grabs a few packets of _Sweet-n-Low_ he always kept around for her. Tossing is to her, she catches it with her free hand.

"Thanks." Natasha smiles sweetly.

"It's still a no."

Natasha sighs an over exaggerated and annoyed sigh.

"You trying to get him to go out on another date?" Sam steps up to Steve's cubicle, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding a white coffee mug.

"Is everyone coming to visit me today?" Steve asks, slightly annoyed. He turns in his swivel chair to the face the two of them.

"I'm just here to enjoy the show," Sam says with a smile, raising his mug and taking a sip. He grimaces, "And for the free sugar."

Steve chuckles, getting into his desk drawer for the _Sweet-n-Low_. He tosses it to Sam, who catches it with a lot less grace than Natasha: he drops them. Natasha watches him pick them up, "Will you at least come out with me and Clint tonight?"

"As long as you don't bring a fourth person along."

Natasha gives Steve a look. He returns it, "I'm serious." After another few seconds of prolonged eye-contact, she breaks, "Fine."

Steve grins, "Good. Now will you please let me work?"

"Yes, I'm already gone." Natasha turns and leaves, "Later Rogers."

Sam watches Natasha walk away until he feels she's out of earshot. He then leans into the cubicle, "You're never going to tell her, are you?"

"I will," Steve promises.

Sam snorts, "Oh yeah, sure Rogers. Okay."

"I will," he repeats, swiveling back to face the computer on his desk.

"Whatever you say," Sam's voice has already faded and has dispersed through the office.

* * *

Steve waits just outside of his apartment building for Natasha. From what he remembered, she said they were going to a rather nice restaurant, so he chose to wear a button-down with a vest and tie, a pair of slacks and suede shoes. Not much fancier than how he normally dresses for work. He checks his watch, then looks up the street.

Leaning against the brick wall of his building, he slides his hands down into his pockets. He has a funny feeling he's about to meet Clint's sister. Or Nat's best friend, or cousin. Or maybe Clint's doctor's sister. Who knows. Whoever it is, they always seem to know Natasha and Clint well enough to be hooked up with Nat's co-worker. He sighs, wiping his mouth, running his fingers over his beard. Just then, he hears a car turn on his street; he watches to he see Nat in the driver's seat, Clint beside her. She pulls over to the curb and flashes a smile, "Hey fella, can you tell me where the retirement home is? I'm here to pick up a grandpa."

"Very funny," Steve says, as he opens the back seat door. Nat often made fun of him, calling him grandpa for the fact that he tended to be very old fashioned. As he slides in Natasha turns and smiles at him, "Hi," she says very sweetly.

Shutting the door, Steve sighs, "Who is she?"

"Sharon," Natasha answers, deflating.

"I told you," Clint mutters, causing Steve to smile a little. Nat turns back around.

"Couldn't fool me, Nat. And I thought her name was Lisa?"

"She's Sharon and she's very nice." Natasha tells him, shifting to drive.

"I'm sure she is."

"She's blonde," She pulls away from the curb.

Steve shrugs, "So are a lot of people."

"Including you," Clint points out.

Natasha drives down the street, "You're totally helping my case, sweetheart," her voice is heavy with sarcasm.

Clint smiles warmly, "No problem, darling."

Natasha flicks her partner in the side of the head.

"Aww, pain," he says quietly, lightly touching where she had flicked him. Steve smiles at their interaction; this is how they always acted together. And while she flicked Clint, it didn't stop her from resting her hand on his knee as she drove.

"So how did you find this one?" Steve asks.

"Sam knows her, lives in his apartment building." Natasha answers.

"Oh yeah? Why doesn't he take her out?"

"Oh he already tried." Natasha glaces in the rearview mirror at Steve. He sees a smile in her eyes.

"Oh, right. How come it didn't go well?"

"She saw a picture of you." Nat shrugs.

"Poor Sam."

"Yeah, poor Sam," Clint adds. Natasha flicks him again.

"Aww, Nat." He tenderly rubs the spot again.

"Sam falls in love with everyone he meets," Nat retorts, trying to justify her lack of sympathy.

Steve shrugs; he really can't argue with that one.

Nat pulls up to the restaurant all too soon. Steve sighs, adjusting his tie and tugging at his vest before he exits the car. Clint quickly gets out of the car and runs to open Natasha's door. She carefully steps out as she's wearing heels and a skirt. She smiles at her partner as she smooths her clothes.

"How do I look?"

"Huh? What's that?" Clint turns his ear towards her, "Couldn't hear you." he smiles.

"Jerk," she playfully shoves him as Steve steps out of the car. Nat turns to Steve, "Ready?"

Her co-worker shrugs, "I guess."

Nat walks right up in front of Steve. She has to look nearly straight up at him, "Please give her a chance," she says quietly, absent mindedly straightening Steve's vest.

Steve is careful not to look down at her and make eye contact, "I will."

"Look at me."

He surrenders.

"Please? She really is nice."

"You know I _always_ give them a chance. I'm a gentleman."

"Yeah, you're a little too gentle," she mutters, quickly turning and walking away, "Come on, fellas."

Clint quickly catches up with her to walk arm in arm. Steve lags behind, his hands in his pockets, staring at his shoes. He would rather not get to know another girl only to let her down gently. He felt bad, he really did. It wasn't his intention to hurt anyone's feelings but he supposes there's no way to avoid it.

Entering the restaurant, it has a luxurious decor and very low lighting. Nat approaches the hostess, stating that she has reservations. Steve swallows, looking around at the other diners; most are couples, clinking wine glasses and speaking quietly to one another. Steve never preferred the fancy type of restaurants; growing up with very little, he found he kind of liked loud noisy public places. Those were at least a treat when he was a kid. He was so out of place here; kids from Brooklyn never liked frequenting fancy Italian restaurants, or whatever this place was.

He reluctantly followed behind Nat and Clint, wondering when his date would get here. Sitting at a table for four, Nat seemed to read his thoughts, "She will be joining us shortly."

"What's her name again?" Steve asks, still standing.

"Sharon," Nat answers, she glances at Steve, "Carter."

"Gotcha." He's still standing behind his chair, awkwardly. Nat and Clint look over the one page menu, as Steve waits. He found it best to at least act chivalrous for the women he was going to turn down, so he waits for Sharon to arrive so he can pull out her chair for her.

Not too long after a blonde-haired woman approaches the three. Steve walks to meet her, shaking her hand firmly. She smiles, "Hi, Sharon. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Steve Rogers."

"So I've heard," She bites her lip for a second, fighting back the broad grin. Steve takes but a second to view her. She's average height, thin, and is wearing a lovely knee-length and form-fitting red dress. She's quite busty, and is displaying that quite obviously since the dress is low-cut as well. Steve doesn't look twice; he doesn't really want or need to. He simply turns and pulls out her chair, gesturing to it with a smile. She smoothes her dress in the front, then in the back as she sits. Steve's hand ghosts her back as she pulls it close to the table. Once settled, she watches Steve as he takes his seat. He picks up the one-page menu, noting that it takes her at least five seconds to do the same.

Now is the time in which Steve feels most uncomfortable: the prices. The whole menu, really. It has about six dinner choices and only two appetizer choices. Most of the drinks are all expensive alcohol; any meal costs more than he could afford. He knows Nat will pay for it, which makes him feel worse about it. He glances at the three of them: they are thoughtfully looking over the menu. Well, the women are. Clint looks bored and unimpressed.

A waitress approaches and asks about drinks. Nat orders some fancy bottle of wine Steve has never even heard of. He often assumes both her and Clint must have some high-paying second job or something prestigious. They spend money like it's going out of style but has no idea where it comes from. Maybe family money.

"What are you ordering?" Sharon asks quietly. Steve looks to see that the question was directed at him. He pretends to look at the menu again, as if he's deciding.

"Steak." He shrugs. He knew before he even got there that he would order whatever kind of beef they had. That's usually the simplest and non-exotic meal. Steve was a simple guy, and therefore favored his easy meals. He wasn't interested in risotto and reduction sauces and whatever the hell else you could put in food.

"And you?" He asks, being courteous.

She too, shrugs, "I like salmon."

He smiles a bit. Perhaps she's a simple gal, too.

The waitress returns with the fancy bottle of wine, and asks if they were ready to order. They do so; Steve doesn't pay attention to what Nat gets, because she always picks something beyond his comprehension. He couldn't wait for their wedding reception. More than likely he'll be forced to eat something he's never heard of. He doesn't pay attention to Clint's order either; he thinks it was seafood like Sharon's.

Nat pours the four of them a generous glass of wine.

"Shall we make a toast?" She asks. The three nod in response. Nat raises her wine glass slightly, "To old, and new relationships. And may they be ever successful."

They clink wine glasses quietly. Steve tries not to roll his eyes at the sight of Sharon's very wide grin. Clint smiles at Nat as they both sip their drink. Sharon gulps a bit too much, and Steve takes the smallest sip, silently reminding himself to ask for water.

The night drags on, with pointless and awkward small talk. Steve takes note of a few traits of Sharon: She smiles a lot; she is trying to make her boobs far more noticeable than they already are; she seems genuine and very nice, courageous. She sort of reminds Steve of a female version of himself, which is kind of a weird thing to think. But he does. He makes eye contact, never letting his eyes trail down. He smiles and listens, talks back. It's routine by now. He'll talk to her and get to know her and when the woman asks him to ride home with her instead, he'll politely decline, saying he has work, needs to take care of his dog (he doesn't have a dog, but by how much he's lying about it he finds he'd like one), or in some rare cases, confessed to being homosexual. Actually that was only once. It was a woman that neither Nat nor Clint knew very well. She was so unbelievably persistent he found that was the only way he'd get her off his back, literally and metaphorically. She scoffed and stormed out of the restaurant. When Nat asked what happened, Steve pretended like he had no idea.

When their food arrived, it was very large sense of relief. Steve found he was quite hungry, and very thankful for the steak in front of him, even though it was far too small for the price. The four ate in general silence. It was very awkward all around. Other diners occasionally shot an odd glance their way, wondering why four people were eating together, and why they weren't talking much. Steve kept his head down, really wanting this night to be over. He wanted to go home and sleep, maybe draw, workout, or even research local pounds for dogs. He didn't want to deal with this woman, or Nat's badgering. Why couldn't this be over?

"Yeah, my Aunt was actually a big part of World War II." Steve's head snapped up at Sharon's comment. He isn't sure how this came up in conversation, but he's curious now.

"What was that?" Steve wipes his mouth with his napkin.

Sharon turns, smiling with a sparkle in her eye, "I said my Aunt Peggy served in World War II."

"Really? I love World War II. Well I didn't love _it_ but I love the history behind it."

"Yeah, me too," she replies, "Well I kind of have to since my aunt was apart of it."

"I always felt like we were all apart of it. I know I would have been."

"Have you served?" Sharon rests her chin in palm.

"Yes, I was a Captain in the army."

"Captain Rogers, huh?" Sharon looks down, then back at Steve, "I like it."

Steve smiles in reply.

"So are you like a history buff?" She asks.

"Oh, no. Just World War II specifically. I don't know why but it's always fascinated me."

"I see." Sharon traces the rim of her wine glass with her finger.

Steve swallows, feeling like he struck a chord somewhere, but where? He looks back down at his plate and begins eating again. He's captivated by Sharon's aunt, but feels like asking about her would establish a relationship that would mean frequent visitations and mixed signals. He decided against it.

After another half hour or so, Nat is finally paying the bill. She doesn't even bat an eye when she looks at the check, but Steve sneaks a peek. It's over $100 and he's blown away.

Standing up, he brushes his pants and moves to pull out Sharon's chair. She quietly says thank you and stands up, uncomfortably close to Steve, "Did you ride here with Natasha?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like to ride home with me, instead?"

Steve sighs and tries not to make eye contact, but finds that that makes it worse. So he looks down at Sharon, "Listen, Sharon, I'm sorry-"

"Stop, I assumed so. You didn't seem that interested." Sharon crosses her arms, watching as Nat and Clint walk away from the table.

"It's not that you're undesirable or nothin'. You're a great gal and you look beautiful."

Sharon smiles a little; Steve continues, "This is just not what I'm looking for right now."

She nods, "It's okay. But thanks for the good time anyway." Steve isn't sure if her words are genuine or not.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

Steve guides Sharon out of the restaurant, his hand resting on her back. She leads him to her car, and he opens the door for her. She looks in the car for a moment, then suddenly turns and gives Steve a chaste kiss. He has no time to react, and by the time he thinks of plan, she's already pulled away. She smiles.

He just looks at her, stunned and confused. Sharon slides into her car seat, shutting the door. Steve just stands beside her car, hands in his pockets. As the car starts up, Sharon rolls down the window. Steve bends to look at her.

"Do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Don't be afraid to tell anyone the truth."

Steve ponders Sharon's comment.

"Good night, Captain Rogers." Sharon salutes.

"And a good night to you, Sharon." He salutes and smiles back. She slowly pulls out of the parking lot, and Steve returns to Nat's car. Sliding into the backseat, he heard Clint say, "Told you." followed by a slap upside the head.

"What's wrong with _this_ one?" She asks, exasperated.

"Uh, nothing." Steve answers honestly, buckling his seatbelt. Nat turns around in her seat, "Seriously. What's was wrong with her?"

"Nothing! It's just…" Steve trails off.

"Just what? Too beautiful? Out of your league? 'Cause just so you know, Rogers, no girl is out of your league. 'Cept me." Clint smiles in response to Natasha's last comment.

"Nat, listen. I'm uh. I'm not a dame kind of guy."

"What?"

"I don't...I like gals and everything. I think they're beautiful and all. But they're just not, uh, my type."

"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place!" Nat exclaims.

"I'm sorry," Steve says quietly.

"You're sorry? _I'm_ sorry! I could have gotten you a boyfriend by now!" Nat turns in her seat and aggressively turns the key of the car. With the vehicle roaring to life, she quickly shifts gears.

"God, Rogers. Aren't you supposed to be all about honesty? Lord help your next boyfriend."

Steve fights a grin.

* * *

Wedding day quickly creeps up on the Barton-Romanoff couple. Lately Nat has been on edge at work, trying to figure out final details for the wedding rather than doing real work. Steve remains patient when she becomes short with him, and is extra sure to keep whatever she needs at hand. Whether it be the sugar Clint forgot to get for her coffee, or to point out that the guest table chart is to her left. He tries his best to be helpful, mostly in return for all the dates she's set him up with. He has noticed that since coming out to her, she hasn't introduced him to anyone. He'll admit he was slightly disappointed, then again, love wasn't something that just happened. His next relationship wasn't going to just land in his arms. He found irony in the fact that when Nat throws the bouquet at the wedding, someone is going to catch it, expecting love to literally fall into their arms. As if.

So the weeks quickly fly by and Steve finds himself putting on the tux he rented, just a few short hours before the wedding. It is a lovely Saturday afternoon in the midst of May. It's not too hot, nor too cold. It appeared Nat was going to have her perfect day in her own way. Steve was happy to share this with someone he considered a friend, rather than a co-worker. Plus, he was looking forward to the free bar and enjoyment of watching drunk people dance.

Steve arrives at the venue; Natasha and Clint agree to a small, outdoor wedding. Steve isn't quite sure on the exact location, he just knows it's a very lovely outdoor area behind a nice-looking building. He walks around it to find people filling into fancy white folding chairs that surround either side of a stone path. There's an arch at the end, laced with red roses and lilacs. There are ribbons on the chairs of the same colors. Clint is waiting on the right side of the arch, speaking with the man who Steve's presumes will marry the two. He makes his way down the slight hill and finds an usher to sign in with. He chooses a seat on edge of the left aisle of chairs, not too close to the front but not too far back. He looks around at the people filling in, finding he hardly recognizes anyone. Although he sweats a bit at the sight of some girls Natasha had recently tried to set him up with.

Finally Sam shows up and sits beside Steve.

"Well don't you look good." Sam compliments.

"You don't look so bad yourself." Steve completes the exchange.

"Thank you, thank you."

A few minutes of idle chatter pass as people quickly fill in the empty chairs. Soon enough, the soft music of a harp is heard, and everyone turns around. The bridesmaids walk down the aisle on the arms of their groomsmen. Steve notices the third groomsmen looking at him as he passes by with a familiar pretty blonde on his arm. She too stares at Steve as she passes by. It's Sharon. Steve pretends he doesn't notice either of them staring, and looks past at the next couple.

Finally, the bride appears at the end of the aisle. Natasha looks at her father, smiling broadly. There are various gasps of awe on how beautiful she looks. Steve grins, admiring how graceful Natasha looks: her pulled back with soft curls, baby's breath in her hair. Her dress form-fitting around her torso, but flowing and wide around her legs. She holds a bouquet of lilacs, roses, and more baby's breath. She slowly passes by the crowd, smiling at a few as she does so, including Steve.

She reaches Clint, is given away by her father, and begins the ceremony by facing her partner. It's a beautiful ceremony, with several tear-jerking moments. Even Steve and Sam have to wipe a tear away, silently making fun of each other from doing so. Clint kisses the bride and everyone cheers. The newlyweds stroll down the aisle as people throw rice on the couple. Nat shields herself with her bouquet of flowers, laughing.

Eventually the crowd files into the building in which the wedding was behind for the reception. Steve is delighted that Nat placed him at a table with Sam, along with a few other coworkers and friends of Clint. They aren't too far from the bride and grooms table. Clint's side is closest to the table Steve sits at, and he notices that third groomsmen is staring at him again. Steve uncomfortably shifts in his chair and turns to Sam. He tries to make small talk until the food arrives. During this time, he gets plenty of looks from women, too.

"Oh man, these ladies look like they're about ready to jump anyone." Sam comments, looking at at least three women who happen to be checking out both him and Steve.

"Tell me about it." Steve doesn't bother to look; he picks up the napkin with his silverware rolled inside.

"I mean I don't mind personally. But I know you-"

"Ah, I'm used to it." Steve unrolls the napkin and places it in his lap.

"Yeah, you're a specimen alright. If I was gay, I'd be all over that."

Steve laughs, "Thanks. I think."

"You never know, though. Weddings are a good time and place to find love. You can't be the only dude looking for a dude here."

"It doesn't matter either way," Steve answers honestly, "I'm fine coming here alone and leaving alone."

"Thing is, you don't have to. You could try and mingle." Sam gives Steve a look.

"Let me eat first," Steve replies, looking up at servers pouring in with trays.

"Fine. But seriously. Try. I'll be your wingman."

"Something tells me you'd actually be pretty good at that." Steve leans back as a server places his meal in front of him.

"Man, you have no idea."

* * *

About an hour has passed since everyone had eaten. Tearful speeches have been made to the bride and groom, and the dancing is in full swing. Natasha and Clint are almost done making their rounds, thanking each table for attending. When Natasha reached Steve's table, she insisted he go out and dance, just as Sam was insisting he go mingle. He finally gives in, but really all he did was lean against a wall that was near the back dance floor, but not before he grabbed a drink from the free bar.

At least four women have approached him already; each either trying to grind against him or just trying to pull him into the dancing crowd. He smiled and declined as politely as possible. Three of the four pouted and walked away. The fourth one appeared quite disgusted and stalked away to a group of women. Steve assumes she told them about what just happened in colorful detail that probably made it seem far worse than it actually was.

Then, suddenly, the dance floor starts shifting drastically. Steve looks over the crowd to see Clint placing a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He escorts Natasha to take a seat as the DJ announces the groom will be throwing the garter into the crowd. He plays a saucy tune as Natasha leans back, holding up her dress a bit. The men cheer and whistle as Clint sticks his head under her dress and pulls the garter off her leg with his teeth. Free, he swings it around his finger and Natasha laughs.

"All right, all the single men, get on the dance floor." The DJ says. The groomsmen and single male guests conform on the floor. Steve stays behind them, technically a part of the bunch, but not quite. Clint flings the garter into the crowd like a rubber band and several men reach to catch it. Someone does, and he holds it in the air: it's the third groomsman Steve had noticed earlier. However, he sees the groomsmen much closer this time. He sets down his drink on a nearby table, shocked.

He's _beautiful._ Steve actually has to try and keep his mouth from dropping. This guy, the third groomsman, looks hot as hell in his slim tux. His soft brown hair was perfectly fluffed into a nice mini pompadour. He has a dazzling smile and amazing eyes and _wow._ He was-is- perfect. Suddenly Steve realized what he had been missing out on by not mingling, and now he _really_ wanted to know why this guy was staring at him earlier.

The women crowding in front of Steve help to break him out of his trance. He stops staring at the third groomsman and also apparently stopped walking forward. He had been literally drawn to this person, and now he's practically _in_ the crowd of women. He didn't even hear the DJ tell them to get on the dance floor.

Steve looks over all of them to see Natasha turned around, shaking her bouquet over her head. The women cheer and Natasha throws the bouquet far behind her, a few rose petals falling the floor as it sails. Steve doesn't remember how or why his arms were outstretched; all he knows is that the bouquet lands in his arms. Or did he involuntarily catch it? Whatever it was, he caused an uproar of mixed responses: Natasha and Clint laughing and women jealously glaring and demanding that she re-do it. Natasha gets a microphone from the DJ to announce that she's _not_ re-tossing the bouquet and to command Steve and groomsman number three, whose name was apparently James, to report to the front of the dance floor. They reluctantly do so, awkwardly looking at each other on the way.

"Are you really making us do this?" Steve asks.

"Oh yes." Nat has a devilish grin on her face.

"It's tradition!" Clint adds.

Steve sighs and exchanges glances with James. He shrugs, the garter around his index finger. Natasha strides to the chair and presents it to Steve. He reluctantly sits as James approaches him.

"Sorry, man. Only Clint and Natalia would make anyone do this."

"You're right on that." Steve replies.

James kneels before him, looking up at Nat, "Really?"

"Yes, really. Pull up his pant leg and everything." Natasha grins as Clint wraps an arm around her waist, grinning as well. The DJ plays the chorus of the Pina Colada song as James slowly rolls Steve's pant leg up. Steve looks up at Natasha, who ruffles his hair. The crowd, both the men and the women, whistle and cheer. Lower thigh exposed, James glides the garter up Steve's leg just as several flashes for photos are taken. The feeling of this James' fingers brushing up Steve's leg force his breath to escape him. He finds himself laughing and notices James does as well. He decides to shrug it off and embrace the situation. He stands with the bouquet in his hand, striking a pose before rolling his pants back down. The crowd disperses back into the dance floor and James stands still next to Steve.

"Well that was something," James says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No kiddin'. Never expected that in a million years." Steve looks at his bouquet, lightly touching the flower petals.

"Hey, uh." James places a hand on his chin.

"What?" Steve looks at him. Damn he was even more beautiful up close.

"Let me buy you a drink."

Steve smiles, "You know they're free right?"

James returns the smile, flashing his pearly whites, "Alright, how about I get the drink for you, we sit, and drink together?"

"Sounds good to me."

James turns to weave off the dance floor as Steve follows closely behind. They make it to the bar and James gets them two shots of straight whiskey.

"Damn, hard stuff huh?" Steve comments, placing two fingers and a thumb around the small glass. James downs his.

"Thought you might need it."

Steve stares at it for a second then downs his as well. His faces scrunches. He makes a quick sigh.

"Good stuff." Steve's voice is much higher than he would have liked it to be.

"How about two beers?" James speaks to the bartender more than to Steve.

"Much better."

Obtaining the drinks, James takes both and gestures for Steve to follow him to a table, the bride and groom's table.

"Here, we can sit at my table." James takes a seat as Steve takes an empty one beside him.

"Feels like the VIP," Steve comments as James smiles and hands him his beer.

"Cheers, to awkward situations that bring people together."

"Cheers," Steve complies by hitting his bottle on James'. They both take a long sip.

"Hey, what's your name? I didn't catch it."

"Steve Rogers, and you're-James?"

He nods, taking another sip of his beer, "James Barnes."

"Well it is very nice to meet you, Barnes, even with the...special situation."

"Special seems like a good adjective for it."

"Yeah?"

"Doesn't mean it's a good thing, but it doesn't mean it's a bad thing either." James smiles at Steve.

"Yeah, you're right." Steve takes another sip of his beer.

"Do you want to dance?" James asks.

"Oh, I don't really know how." Steve looks down at the bottle in his hand.

"I'll teach ya." James stands up.

"I don't know, James." Steve looks up at his new friend pleadingly.

"Come on."

Steve looks at the hand outstretched in front of him. He sets his beer on the table beside him and gently places his hand in James'. The other man pulls him to his feet and guides him to the dance floor, just as a slow song began to play. James finds a nice open area and stops, moving Steve to face him.

"You wanna dance as the guy, or girl?"

"Uh, um. Girl?"

"Alright," James doesn't seem phased by this situation at all. Steve, on the other hand, is feeling rather nervous. Here is this great looking guy _wanting_ to dance with him, "You place your left hand on my shoulder, and I put my right hand on your waist," and he doesn't seem uncomfortable with the situation. Steve follows the directions, but is really doing nothing more than just staring at James, dazed by how brilliant his blue eyes are.

"Then I hold your hand up like this," Steve blushes as James laces his fingers in his, "And we just move our feet to the beat." James gently sways both of their bodies, shifting around in box shape, as to not run into other couples. Steve has not stopped staring at the other man the entire time. When James notices, he smiles, his beautiful eyes crinkling.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Steve blinks, "I gotta ask you a question."

James looks up, thinking for a second, "I think I know what it is, but ask anyway."

"Are you, uh, gay?"

James smiles broadly, looking at down at his shoes, "I knew that's what it was," he looks back up at Steve, his smile softening, "I am, and I'm judging by your lack of interest in any of these women and your clear interest in me that you are, too."

"I am. Is it really that obvious?" Steve asks, suddenly self-conscious.

"Well it is to the guy that hasn't taken his eyes off you since the ceremony." James' smile has disappeared, but not in a bad way. His face has taken on an expression of awe, like he's admiring Steve as much as Steve had been admiring him. James licks his lips.

"Really?" Steve sways his body a bit more with James'.

"Yep. Hang on I wanna teach you another move." James pulls their laced hands out straight and forces Steve to fall back, catching him with his arm. Shocked, Steve feels a blush creep across his cheeks. James smiles down at him, pulling Steve back up into a very close embrace. With their faces only inches apart, James' smile fades again as he leans in, softly kissing Steve. When he pulls away, Steve blinks several times.

"What, uh, what do you call that move?" Steve asks, dumbfounded.

"I'll call that 'Sway and dip 'em, now you gotta kiss 'em.'"

"You definitely made that up just now." Steve accuses.

"Yeah, but it rhymed. And it worked, right?" Bucky raises his eyebrows, biting his lower lip.

"It did," Steve surrenders, "How about we do that move again, but we skip the dip part and go straight to the kiss?"

"You have some great ideas, Rogers." James replies, leaning in to kiss Steve again. Steve's stomach fills with butterflies and he feels his body press against James'. James smiles under Steve's lips and pulls away.

"Aren't you glad you gave dancing a chance?" He asks.

"I sure as hell am now," Steve answers, with a smile.

* * *

The reception begins dying down: the music has lowered to a quiet volume, and many have already left. Those that have chosen to stay sit at various tables in small groups while the bride and groom sit at the front table together. Nat holds Clint's hand as the two share hushed whispers, smiles and kisses together. Steve and James have taken refuge at Steve's table and have spent at least an hour sharing war stories and other miscellaneous topics of conversations: jobs, embarrassing moments, etc. Several times throughout the conversation, James would casually rest a hand on Steve's knee, and several times throughout the conversation, Steve noticed that James tended to lick his lips and bit his lip. Both tendencies were simultaneously frustrating and cute. Nearing the end of the night, James' hand kept creeping dangerously up Steve's thigh. He knew where it was going and figured it was best they get going.

Steve cocked his head, "Why don't we give our thanks to the bride and groom and, uh, head back to my place?"

James' eyebrows shot up. He laughed a bit from shock, then bit his lip nodding, "I'd love to."

Steve looked at his shoes, hiding his grin and red cheeks. Standing, he gestured James to follow. They approached the bride and groom who looked up, lips curved into grins and eyes dancing.

"Hey, thanks so much for inviting me guys. It was a beautiful service. Great party." Steve shook Clint's hand and went to shake Natasha's hand but she stood and hugged him.

"Thank you for coming. Did you meet anyone?" She stepped back to look up at Steve. He fought a grin and scratched the back of his head while James' stood beside them, smiling as well, scratching the tip of his own ear. Natasha's mouth dropped, and she hugged Steve again. When he tried to pulled away, she pushed his neck down so she could whisper in his ear.

"If you had just told me sooner, this could have been a double wedding."

"Oh, come on." Steve gave her a look, but he couldn't help but feel giddy about the idea, even though he had just met James. At least he met _someone._ Meanwhile in the background, James said his own goodbyes to Clint.

"You two are perfect for each other." She smiled.

"We barely know each other," Steve whispered.

"I've known James longer than I've know you. Trust me, this is _perfect._ " Natasha watched as Steve blushed.

"Go on," She pushed his shoulder as James approached the two of them. She kissed James' cheek and squeezed his hand, "Go on, you two. Go do your thing."

"Alright we're goin'!" James' exclaimed, turning to leave. Steve did the same until he felt Nat pull his arm back.

"What?" He asked.

"One more thing," She said quietly, "He likes to be called Bucky."

A smile crept on Steve's lips, "Noted."

"Okay, go." She said, pushing him again.

"Yeah, c'mon Rogers!" James called, almost out the door.

Steve couldn't help but run after Bucky.

* * *

Arriving back to Steve's apartment, James wasted no time in getting right to it: Steve let him in first, closed the door and turned around only to find himself locked into a kiss with James.

"Whoa, Bucky." Steve gently pulled back James' face. James bit his lip again, breathing deeply - Steve had asked in the car about James' likeness of the nickname Bucky. Apparently it was a name he had reserved only for those who had been his lovers. It was also apparently a personal detail he felt comfortable sharing with Natasha.

"Sorry, I just-"

"It's fine, James. I was just a bit surprised. That's all." Steve gave him a sideways grin. James' tongue darted out to wet his own lips.

"God, Bucky. Do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Lick your lips and bite your lip."

James smiled, incidentally biting his lip. He laughed, "Why, is that bad?"

"It's very..frustrating." Steve admitted, stepping closer.

"Would you rather I do that to you?" James asked in the most innocent tone of voice.

"Jesus, Bucky, you're going to kill me before we even start." Steve leaned down a bit to meet James' lips. Steve started the kiss slowly and gently, his finger tipping James' chin ever so slightly; it was his style. He was a simple guy and a gentle lover. James, on the other hand, was apparently the opposite of gentle. He deepened the kiss, teeth pushing forward to catch Steve's bottom lip: he bit down and dragged his teeth back until they let go. Steve squeezed each of James' biceps as James slid his hands up Steve's neck to rake his fingers through his hair.

Kissing Steve again, James slid his tongue across Steve's bottom lip, allowing himself to sneak his way into Steve's mouth. He still tasted like the wedding cake mixed with the alcohol the two shared. Steve exhaled, gripping James' shirt as he leaned into him. James continued to occasionally bite Steve's lower lip, each time becoming harder and more eager. Steve finally began guiding James backward towards his room, causing the other man to pull away.

"Where we goin'?" the corner of James' mouth twitched to a smile for a second.

"Bedroom." Steve's tone came off a lot more demanding than he ever anticipated. It seemed to please James, so he quickly grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom. Closing the door, Steve moved to James, rushing to slide the jacket off his arms and made fast work of his crisp, buttoned shirt.

"Eager, are we?" James grins at Steve, who kept his attention the damn small buttons.

"Hush, Buck." Finally detaching the last button, Steve pushes the shirt off of James, sliding his hands down the contours of James' toned arms, then back up to the collarbone. Steve leans forward, kissing James' neck, trailing down to where his hands rested. He nips at the collar bone and allows his hands to feel the hard abs. Steve drags his thumbs against James' stomach, the rest of his fingers squeezing whatever skin they could find. He had never wanted someone's body more in his life. James pushes his hips against Steve's just as Steve begins leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck.

James tugs at Steve's tie. He unties it and lets it fall to the floor, and then pushes the jacket off of Steve's broad shoulders. He gently nudges him away to unbutton the shirt, making it a much more painless task than Steve had. With it on the floor, framing Steve's feet, James pulls him into his neck, silently asking for the open-mouthed kissing and mild biting again. As Steve does so, James reaches over his shoulders, pulling him against himself as Steve continues to suck and bite his neck. James digs his nails into Steve causing a noticeable reaction from him. Steve yips, his whole body thrusting against James. He smiles scratching his way down Steve's back. Leaning into James, Steve whines.

"You like that, huh?" James whispered, nails traveling back up to Steve's shoulders, falling down his arms.

" _God. Yes_ , Bucky." Steve moved to kiss James again, hungrily biting his lip as he crowded James against the wall.

"You sure you don't want to move to the bed?" James whispered as Steve left a path of kisses along his jawline.

He stopped dead, and then looked at James; his face was flushed, and he was giving another sideways grin, "Yeah, I guess that's why I brought you to the bedroom in the first place, huh?"

James smile faded, his face adopting a look of lust. He walks forward as Steve walks backward until the back of his knees curve around the bed. Steve falls to the bed as James climbs on top of him. He slides his arm underneath Steve to pull him further up the bed. Stradling Steve's hips, James lowers himself, grinding down on him as nails scraped down his right arm. James leans down and bites Steve's lower lip, surprised when Steve fervently does the same. He smiles as he grinds against Steve again.

"You just gonna tease me forever or actually do somethin'?" Steve sighs, a contented yet impatient sigh.

James clicks his tongue, sitting up while still straddling Steve's hips, "Pushy, pushy."

Steve glides his hands up and down James' chest, "C'mon, Buck," he whines.

James inhales shakily, "Only if you keep callin' me that," he says, unbuckling Steve's belt. Steve leans up a bit to allow ease in sliding it past each belt loop. James tosses the belt to the floor and doesn't make another move. Steve gives him a pleading look.

"No, me next." James grins, biting his lip, "This is a two man job, you know."

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles all the same. He sits up and slowly takes James' belt off, unbuttoning his pants as well.

"So impatient," James scolds, unbuttoning Steve's pants as well.

"Sorry, it's been a while." Steve shrugs. James simply kisses him again as he slowly unzips Steve's pants. Pulling his body off of the other man, James takes the pants off of Steve, using one hand to scratch down the length of Steve's leg. He doesn't make a sound but James knows it has a pleasing effect. When he scratches down the other leg, he catches the garter. He smiles at Steve giving him a look that said "forget something?" The two laughed for a moment. James flung it to the floor as Clint had earlier that night.

Climbing back on top of Steve, he licks his lips on purpose, "Your turn."

Steve quickly flips them over, teasing James as he grinds down on him. He bites his lip as he combs his hands through James' hair. He drags his teeth along James' cheek, ending at his ear. Steve rubs his nose against James' ear, nipping and sweeping his tongue on the lobe.

He hums James' nickname, "Bucky."

James begins digging his nails into Steve's back causing the both of them to rock their hips against each other.

"How does it feel Bucky," Steve glides his tongue down James' neck, "to be teased?" he suddenly bites his neck.

James harshly drags his nails across Steve's skin, "Screw you, Rogers."

"I think you forgot to say, 'I'm going to,' before those last three words." Steve gives him the side grin again.

James purposely licks his lips, "Can't do that with my pants on, now can I?"

"Who's the impatient one, now?" Steve says, yanking down James pants faster than he meant to, "I guess I still am."

"We both are," James nearly growls. He sits up to meet Steve in a very hungry kiss. He pulls himself onto Steve's lap, wrapping both legs around him. Steve cradles James' face with both hands; James scratches him again, travelling from the tops of Steve's hands all the way up his arms. His nails punish Steve's back until his hands slip beneath the only garment separating the two. Steve's breathing hitches as he bites down on James' lip; his hips react to the feeling of hands groping his ass.

James extracts his hands to slowly remove the last piece of clothing. Admiring Steve's rather impressive member, he quite literally bites back his own grin. Steve blushes, moving his hands to slip off James' underwear.

"Wish I went first," James mumbles, "Damn."

Steve waits to James to adjust so he can completely remove his boxers. Tossing them on the floor, Steve admires by grinning as he slides his hands up and down James' legs.

"Don't know what you mean," he whispers, lowering to leave a trail of kisses from James' hip bone to his inner thigh, "You're beautiful, Bucky."

James throws his head back, half from the small pleasure of Steve's mouth on his legs, half from a small laugh, "What a sap."

"Well it's not everyday I have sex with someone right after I meet them."

"Oh that's what we're doing? I thought you brought me back here to tease me-" James is interrupted by a hand touching him in an unspeakable area, "- _torturously."_

"I just want to enjoy you in case you decide not to call." Steve says, letting his hand wander all over James nether regions.

"I can already tell you, I want to do this again."

Steve lowers to trail more kisses. James sits up to comb his hands through Steve's hair. He stops and looks up at James.

"Bucky."

James grips a small bunch of Steve's hair.

"What do you want me to do, Bucky?" Steve asks, pretending he doesn't know the answer.

James throws his head back again, laughing once, " _Christ, Steve._ " He looks back to Steve: an expression of intense lust, _"Fuck me, dammit."_

Steve climbs up as if he is going to kiss James, but doesn't. He simply leans forward causing James to lean backward. Their lips never touch, but Steve is close enough that James can feel his hot breath caress his mouth.

With James lying down, Steve closes the distance, meeting with a chaste kiss. He gently cups James' face with one hand, kissing him repeatedly as he traces his ear with his fingers. James whimpers, pushing his hips upward. Steve whispers, "Patience," and deepens the kiss, his tongue being welcomed into James' mouth.

James takes hold of both Steve's biceps as Steve's places his free hand on James' other cheek. Steve pushes his lips forward to grab a hold of James' bottom lip, causing a moan to escape. Steve repeats the sound as nails travel down his arms.

"I'm just gonna do that harder if you keep teasin' me." James warns.

Steve gives James the sideways grin: _Do it, Bucky._ He kisses his neck, purposely ghosting his hips just above James. Steve's hands continuously rub down James' abs, between his thighs, then back up meeting at his sternum.

James keeps his promise: he roughly scratches back up Steve's arms then down his back again. He continues the path until Steve can no longer focus on what he's trying to do. Taking advantage of Steve's moment of weakness, James' hands slide down over the curve of his ass, granting him the leverage he wanted to push Steve down between his legs. Steve gasps, laying his head on James' chest with a smile on his face.

"Alright, alright, I got it." He looks up at James and kisses him once before leaning over to the right of the bed. He opens a drawer in his night stand to retrieve what he needs, a condom and small bottle of lubricant. Tearing off the top of the wrapper, he removes the condom and uses James' hands to help himself guide it on.

"You are literally the worst person on the planet." James says, keeping his eyes glued to where his own hands were.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks innocently, squeezing the contents of the bottle onto his hand.

"You're a tease, Steve."

Steve grins leaning forward as his fingers go inside an unspeakable place, "You don't mean that Bucky."

James grins, closing his eyes and biting his lip, "Fuck you."

"I think you mean, 'fuck me.'" Steve laughs, kissing James' neck as his fingers move.

"Please do, I'm ready, you're ready."

Steve freezes, "Are you sure?"

"Look at me."

Steve leans back to look at James.

"I'm sure."

Steve removes his hand and slides it up the side of James' body. His pelvis lowers and James' legs spread, reaching up Steve's side. Steve watches himself just as James does, and he slowly pushes himself in.

"Holy shit," James breathes. Steve immediately looks up at him.

"Too much?" He asks.

"Not enough," James responds.

Steve smirks and pushes himself further, making eye contact. He leans forward and softly kisses James, whispering his nickname in his mouth. His hips pull back as he caresses his partner's cheek. James' hands scratch down Steve's back, causing him to thrust back in more quickly than he originally wanted to. James' breath hitches, and he keeps his hands just below Steve's ass to keep some control over his movement.

Guiding Steve for a bit, he slowly pushes him into himself and lets him pull out at his own pace. Steve kisses James wherever his lips can find skin. As his trails up James' neck, he whispers, "Bucky," in his ear several times. It causes James' hands to push towards him a bit harder. Soon enough, with the help of Steve's whispers slowly coming out more like moans, and James' nails digging in skin, the two are moving in a quick and rhythmic pace. The air in the room is thick with the sound of skin against skin, and groans that resonate with both men as pleasure envelops them.

James keeps constant eye contact with Steve, unafraid to let the pained pleasure paint his face when Steve moves his pelvis just right. Each time his eyebrows pull together and a high pitched moan would escape his mouth, causing Steve to growl and come back a little bit harder. The sensation was like nothing Steve had felt before. It was as if they were _made_ for each other. Each time he would push back into James, causing them both to moan, it filled him with an intense rush of euphoria. Steve would go harder, watching James' face fill with ecstasy.

"Bucky." He breathed.

James cried out, his eyes fluttering closed, cheeks flushing red.

Steve went faster, leaning down closer against James' chest. He licked the sweat from his body from his nipple to his neck, " _Bucky_ ," he growled against his skin.

"Oh god," James could hardly speak.

Steve buried his face into the other man's neck as he slowed his pace. He instead began to go even harder but slower. He bit James' ear, and then tongued the lobe. He dragged his nose across his jaw as he thrusted into James. Each push made James moan louder.

"Bucky," Steve practically whined into James' cheek, breathing heavily as he began to pull out.

" _Steve,_ " was all he could get out.

Steve touched his forehead to James and stared at him, pushing himself back in. He hesitated before he pulled out again, rotating his hips in small circles, nearly giving but willing himself to hold out a little longer. He closed his eyes and moaned James' nickname into his mouth.

This time James' nearly screamed; Steve knew he was close, as he was as well. He began pushing hard and fast, leaning back so he could watch James as he went. James' mouth opened wider and wider as his eyebrows pulled closer together. He started repeating Steve's name as his eyes fluttered shut. Steve did the same, grabbing hold of James' hair as leverage, and saying his name as he came so close. He felt James clench around him in the most gratifying way as his hands searched for something to hold on to. Without thinking, Steve grabbed both hands with his own, lacing their fingers together. He kept going as James cried out, climaxing all over himself. Steve breathed hard, as he thrust into James one last time as he released inside of him. He moaned "Bucky" and his hips jerked a bit as he was orgasming. He collapsed on James, both of them breathing heavily for a few minutes.

Steve then carefully pulled out of James and trashed the condom. He crawled beside James, gesturing him to lay on his chest. He lay his head on Steve's chest and sighed. James wiped sweat from his forehand, sliding his hand into his own hair. Steve took several deep breathes, watching how James' head would gently rise and fall. His heart was still racing as he hadn't come down from the high yet. He stared at James' hair and moved his hand to idly stroke it. He gazed down the length of his body, seeing the sweat glisten off him still, and seeing the beauty of how well James was put together.

"Bucky," he hummed absentmindedly.

"Hmm?" James responded. Steve had not realized he made a sound, nor did he realize that James hummed back. He simply kept staring at a person he realized he didn't want to see go.

"Steve," James said in a sing song voice.

Steve snapped from his trance, "What is it Bucky?"

"Your heart is still pounding," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Steve just smiled to himself.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed my lame little love story! Please favorite or leave a review if you liked it! I always appreciate feedback! c:**


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